Choreographer Igor Shyshko grew up in the USSR (now Belarus), but moved to Belgium in 1997 to study at P.A.R.T.S., later dancing with Rosas, Akram Khan, Arco Renz, and Marc Vanrunxt, amongst others. This season, he creates a ritual choreography with Spell in which he reflects on what it means to live, work, and form relationships today as an immigrant, cultural worker and magical being…

In her latest creation Hear The Silence, Zoë Demoustier reflects on the relationship between music and war, to the tunes of the waltz. In her last performance Unfolding an Archive, she delved into the visual archives of her father, war journalist Daniel Demoustier. We sat down with both choreographers to discuss the relationship between propaganda and art.

– Kathy Vandenbossche (KVS artistic coordinator) & Gerardo Salinas (KVS city dramaturge) –

Gerardo: We construct ourselves through narratives, but we are also exposed to discourses that we don’t choose.

Zoë: "Exactly. In Hear The Silence, I explore how these collective narratives are built. The creation will feature seven dancers, and we are working with movement patterns inspired by the waltz and military marches. I am interested in the relationship between classical music and times of conflict – how certain rhythms and structures become symbols of an era."

"I was interested in the idea of an odd number, something that breaks the symmetry of traditional waltz pairs. The musician also physically participates in the choreography, which creates a different dynamic on stage. In addition, I want to incorporate a choir of voices from different parts of the world, especially people who live in conflict zones or have migrated. I love the idea of connecting these voices and spreading them throughout the space, so that the audience experiences the sound in an immersive way."

"We are working with, among other pieces, a waltz by Shostakovich - a composer with a complex relationship to the Soviet regime. While he composed for the state, he also criticised it. I am interested in seeing how we can deconstruct and transform live classical pieces into something contemporary. It is a technical process, but also deeply symbolic. Bertolt Brecht once said in a poem: 'Will there be singing in dark times? Yes, there will be singing about the dark times.' I love the idea that even in difficult times, music and dance can be forms of resistance and unity. That is the spirit of this project."

Igor: "That is a powerful idea. Resistance through art. And to continue the discussion on propaganda: you only realise you've been exposed to it once you escape from it. When you're living in it, you think it's normal. We believed we were happy during communism. At home, no one encouraged you to express your thoughts or opinions. You had to be like everyone else, and if you were different, you had to suppress it. This made it easy to manipulate people and that’s what’s happening now in Russia. Maintaining poverty and ignorance makes controlling people easier. 

Zoë: "I went to a school where children were encouraged to express their opinions and determine their own curriculum. From the age of four, we were asked what we thought and what we wanted to learn. Every pupil could write down stories, discoveries, or thoughts, and at the end of the week, we printed them in a newspaper. So we were not only encouraged to share in class, but also to share our ideas with a broader audience."

Igor: "That’s so different to where I come from. We were taught that making money was bad, that you had to be spiritual and care for others. When I arrived in Belgium in 1997, I had to demolish everything I knew. As an artist, you have to have your own opinion about everything here, but it took me a long time to realise that I could speak freely. I had to first stand at the sidelines and observe to understand how things worked."

Gerardo: I understand what you mean. As an immigrant, even the simplest things – talking, arguing with your partner – are different. Because culture also determines how you express frustration. Add war, genocide, or persecution to the immigrant experience, and you carry an extra burden. It reminds me of your earlier performances. Malus was about transformation and spirituality. The Box was literally confined to a closed box. And now Spell is about movement – leaving a space, a body, a home. I see a connection.

Igor: "Yes, this performance is about exhaustion – both mental and physical – related to the refugee experience. Initially, we carry stones with which we try to perform a classical Russian dance. It's as if we are breaking through an obstacle. As we progress, exhaustion sets in due to the repetitive action. For me, this is about what it means to escape war and find yourself in a place where you’re not welcome. I was lucky and I found stability though my work, but many refugees have nowhere to go. They leave because they cannot stay and arrive at a place where they are not accepted. Right now, we are experiencing the second-largest migration wave in our region since the end of the Soviet Union. In Belarus, for example, there are now two governments – one in the country, led by a dictator, and another one exiled in Poland, representing Belarusians abroad. Meanwhile, we are trying to survive as a nation outside our own country. That’s what I want to express on stage – not literally, but through movement, obstacles, and imagery. It's about creating a new world in a place where you don’t belong."
 

Kathy: It reminds me of a phenomenon in Sweden called 'Resignation Syndrome'. Children from asylum-seeking families suddenly slept all the time and wouldn’t wake up, sometimes for several years. They weren’t in a coma, but mentally exhausted to the point of being 'switched off.' It was a kind of extreme fatigue caused by the uncertainty and many obstacles they faced.

Igor: "Yes! I see this with dancers I work with, like Albina, the Russian dancer in Spell. She tries to build a life through dance which is her passion, but it's incredibly difficult when you arrive in a new country. How do you survive as an artist when everything is against you? I recently read something that struck me: just because we have democracy doesn’t mean we make progress. If we don’t actively maintain it, we can regress into dictatorship, even in Europe. I always thought that once democracy was established, people would naturally move forward, but that is definitely not the case. The world can change quickly."

"When I grew up in the USSR, there was a strong, collective ideology that drove society. Now, power is concentrated in individuals like Trump or Putin. Oligarchies take control and shape the world to their liking, it’s no longer about common sense or shared values. In the U.S., for example, wealth dictates politics. Populism may initially seem favourable to the people, but the long-term impact is uncertain."

Gerardo: Zoë, after seeing so many archived images of conflicts worldwide, what do you think of the violence against immigrants today? There’s a growing sense that conflicts are returning to Europe. Do you feel that too?

Zoë: "I think there has been a major shift in how news is produced and consumed. In my father's time, journalists had to physically carry their tapes through the desert and send their work via satellites. Now, a phone is enough, and news is constant. Journalists I’ve spoken to are frustrated because there used to be ethical guidelines. For example, they would never show dead bodies out of respect for the families and to prevent us from becoming indifferent to violence. Susan Sontag wrote about how we perceive the suffering of others, and I think there is a real danger of becoming desensitised.”

“The mix of graphic war reporting and trivial content like makeup tutorials on social media is surreal. We are constantly caught between extremes. There’s a sense of instability and pessimism in my generation. There is a real fear that we are heading towards a new world war. And although information brings us closer to events, it also creates confusion. Despite knowing more than ever, people are blinded by disinformation."

Gerardo: The biggest difference today is that we are always connected. Even during the most horrific events of the past, there were breaks – moments to disconnect, to live, to talk. Now we are constantly 'plugged in,' flooded with news, memes, and messages. We are expected to react immediately; if we don't, people think we aren’t interested. We receive an avalanche of communication – some meaningful, but much of it is just noise – and we respond without really thinking.

That’s why what we do as artists is so important. Art breaks through that fast-paced, impulsive environment. It forces people to slow down, to reflect. A performance can transform time itself.

Igor: "To be honest, I don’t engage with social media at all. I don’t have Instagram or Facebook, but I still feel completely fulfilled. But even if you’re not actively participating, it’s always there. Open YouTube, and the algorithm decides what you see. Maybe it’s because of what I watch, but for me, YouTube actually feels like a better, calmer place. Propaganda still has a major influence on my life. My family avoids political conversations because they lead to arguments. When I visit them, I step into a completely different reality, a world dominated by fear. Even here, I feel that impact. I never respond online or engage in debates because I know I might have to return to my country someday. If I say too much, if something gets published, I could be stopped and questioned. That fear is always there. I have to constantly censor myself."

Zoë: "Do you have any memories of music that was part of that environment?"

Igor: "Yes, I was part of the Pioneers, the Belarusian youth movement. Music played a big part in cultivating patriotism. But I was a rebellious teenager. I refused to participate and was expelled from school because I didn’t fit into the system. Luckily, the system collapsed by the time I was a teenager, giving me some freedom. I was lucky. Now the situation is different."